


On The Inside

by still_lycoris



Category: Confessions of Dorian Gray
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toby insists on seeing Dorian's portrait, although Dorian isn't so keen. Mild spoilers for episode four.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Inside

I can’t say that I really wanted to show Toby my portrait. _He_ wanted to see it, of course, anybody who knows me wants to see it – but I kept putting him off. It wasn’t that hard, I usually came to his place and in the first few months, we found leaving the apartment rather tricky. But he kept asking and nagging and finally threatened tortures of many devious natures if I didn’t oblige him. So I was forced to give in.

“This your place? Ooooh, very swish. You have terrible taste in décor though.”

“Hm, says the man who hasn’t changed his place since the fifties.”

“Classic, Dorian, classic.”

“There’s a difference between classic and outdated, Toby.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, where is it then? Don’t keep me in suspense!”

I pushed him in the general direction and then stood back to watch the affect. Normally, I found it rather funny but I found myself … well, _nervous_. I actually _cared_ what Toby thought – which was a pretty novel sensation and not one that I cared for. Naturally, he sensed it and acted like it was nothing, messing around and laughing – but he did go quiet when he saw it. Everyone does. They can’t help it. There’s nothing else like my portrait in the world.

“Gosh. That’s … different.”

“You can say ugly. Everyone does.”

All right then, ugly. But still … different. Wow, look at your cheekbones. They’re much less attractive when they’re poking through your skin, you know.”

“ _Yes_ , Toby, I _know_. That’s the _point_. Are you finished?”

“No, I’m not, it’s art, you have to study art. What did you do to the top of your head? Or is that just baldness?”

“Someone attacked me a few years ago and tried to cut my head off, I think they wanted to eat my brain. I am _not_ bald!”

“Dorian, you’re at least a hundred, you’re bald. Everyone goes bald, no need to fuss about it. Your portrait has just gone bald for you, that’s all.”

“Oh shut up. Are you finished now?”

He wasn’t. He kept staring and staring, turning his head from one side to another, as though looking from a different angle would make the painting change. I stood there, trying not to fidget and wondering exactly what it was that Tony was _seeing_ in the damn thing that had him so interested. He could be looking at _me_ and instead, he was gaping at an incredibly ugly, mouldy picture of me, not even of me, of ... well, something else.

But when he finally spoke again, his voice was hushed.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“What is, exactly?”

“That. That’s your soul. They say vampires have no soul, that that’s why we can’t see ourselves in a mirror but you, you have a reflection don’t you? So that can’t be it. Do you think I have a soul, Dorian?”

“If you do, it’s probably in worse state than mine!”

I said it flippantly. Why did I say it so flippantly? He was being quite, thoughtful, he wanted me to talk to him, not to laugh. He looked at me then and his eyes … they were hurt. I had hurt him.

But, of course, when he spoke, his voice was light.

“Heh. Well, maybe. Bet mine’s not bald though.”

“You just said everyone went bald!”

“Not me. I still have a full head of hair over my exceedingly old head.”

“They say blonds go bald quicker, you know.”

“All lies.”

He put his arms around him, rested his cheek against my shoulder for a moment. I hugged him back, knowing I had done something wrong and not sure how to fix it, not even sure that Toby would want it fixed. I hadn’t seen him look like that before. I didn’t want to see it again.

“Did you see enough?”

He didn’t answer, only kissed me. I took it as a yes, pulled him into the bedroom and let him do whatever he wanted (not something granted to many that I bed!) He seemed back to his old self and I didn’t think anything more of it. I didn’t _want_ to think anything more of it. Something made me want to forget it.

But I caught him looking at my portrait other times, when he was at my place. He never said anything else about it. Just looked at it.

I could never quite make myself ask if it changed how he saw me.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 livejournal 40fandoms challenge.


End file.
